Grande Ronde

It's hard to guage distances in a land of this size. The highway's windings provided a partial view...and it was longer than I'd guessed. At a surmised temperature of a pleasant 87 degrees where I was at 4,200', down there, where the Grande Ronde flowed, it was gonna be oven-esque. But I'd espied the road that ran alongside and was certain it needed exploring. 

As expected, it was intense, but the river is beautiful. I'd maybe gone about three miles when the Bezona Public Access Area hove into view. After a thorough search for a NO CAMPING sign, we, Phoebe and I, settled in next to the lone pine.

Oven-esque (rumor of 113 fahrenheit)

The piddle to Troy, ten miles, was nice. The heat necessitated keeping my shirt soaked, but its heavy, almost canvas-like cotton worked as a personal swamp-cooler. 

Troy turned out to be barely a Bar & Grille with a combo showers and laundry across the street. All closed. Not a soul or sound.

Suddenly a man appeared and asked if I'd seen a white dog. I hadn't but immediately began looking. He soon yelled "Here she is!" and I watched as the animal galumphed across the road, totally ignoring the man's whistles and calls.

"I see she has you trained," said I.

"She's a good bird dog," he rejoined.

I asked about water and he offered me some from his nearby cabin.

After filling the jugs he helped carry one back. During the journey I learned he'd been coming to the area for decades to fly-fish and hunt chukars. To keep in shape, he walked up the nearby hill every other day. Tilting my head alllllll the way back, I could just see the telemetry tower on top...perhaps a thousand feet away, almost straight up. At 75, Martin looked in top condition with not an ounce of fat.

We were perusing my laptop maps when a fellow on a motorcycle came down from the same hill. 

The Scotsman -- his accented "hello" had prompted an inquiry -- was returning to Prineville (Oregon) after touring Wyoming, Montana and Idaho on his single-cylinder Honda 650.  

As he acknowledged the danger of motorcycling, he told of a plate in his right forearm acquired after he blocked a plummeting boulder while rock-climbing. He'd also crawled three quarters of a mile to his office after his bicycle slid on ice and he broke his ankle. He'd been all over the world including Sumatra, Thailand, Afganistan and Africa. He'd spent the past several days in Clarkston, Idaho, awaiting repairs to cracked rear wheel hub and was now making up for lost time via "the back roads." As we watched him leave, Martin wistfully commented, "That looks like fun." When I asked why he didn't pursue it, he said he was too old.

An hour or so later, looking for access to National Forest, I turned onto a small road that was signed: NO TRESSPASSING, WARNING TRAPS. Noticing a pickup close behind and thinking it might be the landowner, I pulled over. 

Kurt, an Enforcement Officer for the National Forest, told me the road was owned by the County and went to Wallowa...where I wanted to go. He warned that the switchbacks were tight and the road, barely a single lane, could be intimidating for those with a fear of heights; I acknowledged my wussness. But he said, "You can do it." He went first as he knew a place to turn around. 

He wasn't kidding. If you follow the angle of the hill down to the left, you can just make out where the third switchback comes around from the other side. Still a ways to go to the top.

I'm still wondering what prompted him to follow me and let me know the road went through.

Hints of C.O.R

Somewhere east of Elgin, Oregon.

 

Whiskey Creek Rd

It's the shortcut from Wallowa to highway 3. It enables one to avoid the town of Enterprise. Maps said either way was about 53 minutes. I've managed to stretch it out to more than 24 hours with an overnight atop a hill with a better view than the one below of the Eagle Cap Wilderness. But at this point I don't even bother trying. Maybe with a 4x5 digital, but not with a $900.00 android phone.

This stump, about 30 inches acrosst, prompted speculation about what the forest might've looked like.

Tamkaliks

 

Sunhawk (Umatilla)

Notice the woman in upper left wearing a mask. 

The man upper right with camera.

Man at left with yellow vest. 

Vendors - song is honoring military veterans

Elgin, Oregon

Crossing the plains of southern Idaho and southeast Oregon is alot like traveling the west; the landscapes are similar. 

I camped not far from Elgin at the boundary of the steppe and the forest. There's water in them thar hills and lots of GREEN!

Passing through Elgin, I stopped at The Elks Club operated RV Dump Station for water. $0.10/gal donation requested for potable. Elgin is a logging town with a big pile of small stuff -- little did I realize I was looking at the last of an era when I traveled these parts in my youth and saw a single log on a semi-trailer...or maybe five or six "smaller" ones.

Up here they build their houses out of wood instead of mud.

No swamp-cooler.

On The Snake

I was into Idaho on highway 93 when I remembered I had meds waiting in Elko. I called Twin Falls and discovered they couldn't transfer them.

I went north from Elko through Mountain City then turned west on 78 at Bruneau.

The plains of southwest Idaho are an insomniac's wet dream. The heat and gently undulating hills with not even the hint of a tree to break the mood, had me nearly in the fields more than once. But the magic is, apparently, still active. As I was about to slump over there came a short section of public lands. And down at the end, mit all der terlit paper und the beach between der beavers or river otters (it's hard to tell) was my camp. 

It was the heat of the day, 5pm. I managed to get the awning in place, soaked my shirt and made my way to the river's edge. There're some big ones jumping.

The call of the wild

Amazing Do

 

Adventure in Elko, Nevada

Wedded

My notes say it was the 17th of July, 2019 when I gave her the ring.

In 2020 she surprised me by handing it to me. We were under a bower next to a pretty little brook and it was there she asked me to place it on her finger again.

Middlestack & More

 ....at sunset

Our "traverse" took us behind Middlestack and south along the ridge. 

Camp

We stopped at Sara Spring where there's a five-acre exclosure. 

Karen attacked the roses (an invasive that likes overgrazed areas) with a vengeance impossible to convey. We carted bundles of the rose canes to the lower end of the exclosure where there's a pool the cows use. (The stench is enough to raise your gorge). There was just enough gap for a smaller cow to get through and that's where we piled the cuttings.

We each saw a Great Basin Gopher snake. Karen's was quite large and mine was slender so we can hope there'll be more to come. 

Photo from Nevada Dept of Wildlife website. (Might be copyrighted.)

Herbert von Karajan

by Richard Osborne. Random House, 1998

P. 741 

And slowly but surely the conviction took root that a merciless commitment of all one's available forces was a precondition of successful artistic direction.

To overcome one's idleness and take pleasure in necessary exertion has always lent wings to the intuition of the spirit.

Full Moon

Some things I can't recall at all, but the other day, in the Alabama Hills, a full moon, like tonight's, came up and lit the desert with magic.

We were in THE SPOT, with one of the most spectacular views on the planet...Mt. Whitney,  with a mantle of snow, glowing. The evening, as tonight, was clear and of perfect temperature. We strolled hand-in-hand. 

What is it about the moon that imbues memories that never fade?

Sunset

I came up out of the valley to where there's an hour and a half more light....and signal. It was more than worth it.

Grayl Water Purifier

Years ago, in the Sierras, we chanced upon a woman, alone, who said she'd traveled for two years in Africa using a Grayl. (and no, it doesn't come with sanctification, but if you've ever know real thirst....)

 

It was all the endorsement I needed, but it wasn't until today, some five or more eons later, that it got its  chance. And though this was as clean and clear as the other that came from a pipe straight out of the mountain, I learned my lesson -- a course of metronidazole and a hefty doctor bill. 

The Grayl puts out a product similar to Glacier/Primo, my drink of choice.

The Granites

You go south from Jackpot and stay to the right....mostly. That's Middlestack.

Tap an image to enlargen then spread fingers for even MORE larger.

We're on safari to check exclosures for tresspass.

That's Knoll Mountain, where we're going.

Ranchers are an unscrupulous lot and often, if a fence is down, will allow their livestock to enter areas such as springs that have been fenced to keep them out. Thus, the term "exclosure." 

ABORTION

On this Day of Independence, I refer you to a letter (link immediately below)....

https://www.denverpost.com/2021/12/08/byron-white-roe-wade-supreme-court/

that summarizes my view.

Though the prevailing opinion is that Congress could not, would not reach consensus on contraceptives, abortion, homosexuality or many other subjects, still, I think we fell down a slippery slope when the idea of privacy came to include subjects such as the above. To me, these are inalienable rights.

Also, you'll note, the above decisions involve couples. The right to abortion has, historically, been allocated to woman. This seems, to me, an abuse of patriarchal power hiding behind solicitousness. By "giving" the right to women, men are absolved of their role in pregnancy. I consider this not only disingenuous, but an example of the worst misogynism. I mean, what gave THEM the right?

Additionally, doesn't it strike you as extreme the culture's willingness to embrace abortion as a means of birth control? I don't KNOW, but it seems bizarre to consider the procedure is undergone with the equanimity we've (we men?) been acculturated to believe it is. But maybe I'm wrong. Regardless, in this article about abortion in Florida, which has the highest rate of abortions, it says,  

"About 75,000 of the 80,000 abortions reported by the state in 2021 came during the first trimester, meaning the vast majority of procedures will still be allowed under the new state law. Historically, Florida ranks among the states with the most abortions per capita annually, according to the Kaiser Family Foundation."

It also says most were in the first trimester. So I have to wonder, why aren't the women taking more precautions?....not to blame them, but what is it that gives them to feel, as Jane Roe apparently did when she wanted to abort her THIRD pregnancy, that abortion is an easy option?

And WHERE is, one would think people would ask, the COMPLETELY OVERLOOKED QUESTION of mens' role in this decision? WHY aren't men taking umbrage at being excluded from what is considered, at least by the pro-lifers, as something sacrosanct? WHY aren't they shouldering in and demanding equal responsibility? What misogynist so successfully skewed the idea that women "bought into" being solely responsible for deciding whether and/or when to abort? And not only that, but skewed it so successfully that an entire nation thinks of it as a RIGHT.....rather than recognizing it as something that should, wouldn't YOU think, be A FREEDOM that couldn't be controlled by a government? Why has Congress been willing to hide behind (the kilts of?) The Supreme Court? 

These are issues I think were sidestepped when Roe vs Wade was first passed. Or, over the decades, have been purposely ignored. We're long past due to give more thought to this issue. I mean, WHY hasn't the Equal Rights Amendment passed? But then, are WE (men) so all-powerful that we can provide (to you little women in the kitchen) an AMENDMENT to assert womens' equality? But wouldn't the "right" to abortion be more appropriately enshrined under THAT misogynistic amendment?

And finally, I consider the pro-lifers as biased as anyone. Why haven't THEY gotten behind a movement to acknowledge mens' role in pregnancy? Hmmm?

BYFs - BIG Yellow Flowers

Out here in the wastelands

Where there's naught

But dried bones,

Soap-weed,

And cowshit,

It just blows my socks off

When I get off the highway

And discover....primary colors galore!

Over the miles, the highway comes within varying distances of Coral Pink Sand Dunes Park, but a few miles north of Kanab it, the park, is a mere thousand feet to the west. I, of course went east, and found the ragged remnants of what might've been (surmisaling!) the old highway. And there, amongst the dunes, these BYFs.